Let's get to it

I woke up ready to take on the world this morning. I got out of bed without debate, threw on several layers of clothes and tossed some leftovers in the black picnic bag that I’ve repurposed as a quasi briefcase. I even managed to get the trash packed up and rolled to the curb and make some fresh coffee without losing too many minutes from my routine. I decided on a brisk pace to make up the time and fight off the cold even though it is not as cold as I had feared. I’m pretty sure I could take the loss of another ten degrees without too much worry or stress, but the truth is that with even a light wind the morning would be almost unbearable. I think the ducks and I have officially broken up. They have been avoiding me for the last two days. It pains me a bit, how fleeting bird/man love is, but three geese have set themselves up in their place and they have offered ham handed honks and go yonder stares to try and salve my obvious sadness. The path by the pond is just uneven enough to offer surprises that leave me flat footed at times and stumbling at others, so that most mornings I take on the stride of a fast moving Frankenstein that has been crossed with Randy Parker and I hate it. Since I took dance classes in college I have always taken great pride in my agility. I try to find humor in my gracelessness and remind myself to be thankful that I am the only person in the neighborhood dumb enough to be outside right now. Yesterday the substitute bus driver was dead set on skipping the train station entirely until the other folks on the bus convinced him it was a valid stop. We actually had to pass it and make a u-turn. Today a new substitute almost drove right by the stop where I was waiting as I hopped up and down waving my arms frantically. I’m noticing a theme or two beginning to develop here. Luckily he slammed on the brakes exactly how a bus driver is not supposed to and after a short trot I was safely in the arms of the city transit system. The train station is becoming a family. At first there was a lot of awkward silence and a total lack of eye contact, but through the patient use of smiles that protective coating has been pierced and now there is open small talk about the weather and even some acquaintanceships being formed. It is heartening to see. We all shuffle in the cold and hem and haw about the ten minutes we will lose to a new train schedule that starts next week. The train is blissfully warm, everyone finds an open seat, and I settle in excitedly to read twenty minutes worth of The Gunslinger. There was this fabric that was briefly popular some fifteen or twenty years ago. It was different colors depending on which angle you looked at it from and as you walked it flashed from awful to much, much worse. The sky was like that, like a crumpled piece of bad 80’s fabric shining neon blue and purple in alternating wrinkles; pretty in the sky, not so much on parachute pants. I shuffle upstairs and prepare for an early meeting thinking about the few people who read this thing and how they may be disappointed again that it is late. I have the greatest friends. The really do love me. What an awesome gift . . . and there is my smile again. It’s gonna be a good day. Let’s get to it.